Chapter 6 #2
A convoy of vehicles appears on the horizon, kicking up dust as they speed down the dirt road toward the ranch. Armored SUVs moving in tight formation.
Colton's posture relaxes slightly. "That's them."
The vehicles pull up and a number of operatives spill out and disperse toward the house and the barn.
Another man emerges from the lead SUV. Mid-thirties, dark hair, the same dangerous competence that radiates from Colton.
He takes in the scene with a glance—Colton's injuries, me and Lucas in the yard, the house behind us that clearly saw heavy combat.
"Stryker." He nods once. "You good?"
"Good enough." Colton glances toward me, then back to the other man. "Rachel's sister?"
"Dylan has them. Relocated and secure."
Colton's shoulders relax slightly before he gestures toward us. "Rachel Donovan and her son Lucas. Rachel, this is Mercer. He's part of my team."
Mercer crouches down to Lucas's level. "Hey there. You've had a pretty scary day, huh?"
Lucas nods, gripping his wolf tighter.
"Well, we're going to make sure you're safe now. My friends and I are really good at keeping people safe." He stands and addresses me. "We'll get you to Echo Base. It's a long flight, but we'll make it as comfortable as possible."
"Flight?" I look between them. "How far?"
"Long flight by private jet." Colton moves closer. "I know this is a lot. But it's necessary."
Hours in the air. To a military compound somewhere. With people I don't know, trusting them with my son's life because I don't have any other choice.
"Okay." The word comes out steady despite the fear churning in my gut. "Let's go."
Mercer heads back to the lead vehicle. Colton guides us to the second SUV, which already has a child safety seat. Lucas climbs into the back seat, still clutching Ghost. I slide in beside him while Colton takes the passenger seat up front.
The convoy pulls away from the ranch, leaving behind the crime scene and the truck for Kane's allies to handle.
Lucas leans against me, exhausted. "Mom?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Is Mr. Stryker going to keep us safe? Really safe this time?"
I look at Colton's profile in the front seat. Blood still streaks the back of his neck where he missed a spot washing up. Bandaging shows under his sleeve. He just killed people to protect us and nearly died doing it.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "I think he is."
Lucas's breathing evens out as sleep takes him. I hold him close and watch the desert blur past.
Colton's phone buzzes. He answers, listens, hangs up. His shoulders stay tense.
"What is it?" I ask.
He glances back. "Tommy detected a tracker on the truck. That's how they found us."
The words land heavy. "What?"
"Somehow the Committee planted it. They followed us from your house to the safe house." His jaw tightens. "I didn't think to sweep the vehicle before we left. I almost got you both killed."
The anger hits fast—rage and terror at how close we came. Lucas could have died because Colton didn't check. We could have died in that panic room.
But Lucas is breathing against my shoulder. Alive because Colton stood between him and the operatives that tracker brought to our door.
"Just get us there," I say quietly. "Get us somewhere safe."
He holds my gaze, then nods. "I will."
The convoy speeds toward Tucson. I watch the desert blur past the window—endless scrub and rock and sky that doesn't care about Committee operatives or tracked vehicles or six-year-old boys who saw the wrong thing at the wrong time.
Lucas's weight is solid against my side, his breathing deep and even. One hand still grips Ghost, the wolf's worn fur matted from years of being clutched during nightmares. The other hand rests on my arm, fingers curled loose in sleep.
He's so small. So breakable. The Committee sent multiple operatives to kill him because he can identify a man with a snake tattoo. Because he wandered off while I was distracted. Because I failed to protect him for two goddamn minutes.
They came with assault weapons and body armor and tactical coordination. Came to kill a six-year-old child to protect their operation. Came prepared to eliminate anyone standing in their way.
Colton stood in their way. He walked into that firefight alone and walked back out because letting them reach us wasn't an option.
Eight years ago, he walked away from whatever we were building because he couldn't handle being tied down. Now he's bleeding and bruised and coordinating extraction to his team's base of operations because walking away isn't an option anymore.
People don't change like that. Not really. Not in fundamental ways.
But maybe they do when a child's life is on the line.
My throat tightens. I force myself to breathe through it.
The SUV hums beneath us, tires eating up miles of empty highway. In the front seat, Colton talks quietly into his phone—coordinates, logistics and tactical details I don't fully understand. Planning the next move. Always planning.
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, but that makes it worse. Behind my eyelids, I see the panic room. Hear the muffled gunfire. Feel Lucas trembling against me while I whispered lies about safety.
Eyes open. Better to watch the desert.
Buildings start appearing along the highway. Tucson spreading out in the distance, urban sprawl creeping into the empty landscape. We're getting close.
My stomach twists. Once we board that plane, there's no going back. No changing our minds. No returning to our old life.
Not that we have an old life to return to anymore.
We pass a billboard for a water park in Tucson. Cartoon kids sliding down bright blue tubes, arms raised in joy. Lucas would love that. Would beg to go, would spend hours in the wave pool, would come home sunburned and exhausted and happy.
Except we're never going back. Never going to do normal things like water parks and soccer practice and playdates with friends whose names I'm already starting to forget.
My chest aches. I breathe through it and keep my eyes on the horizon.
Colton ends his call and shifts in his seat. Glances back at Lucas sleeping, then at me. "You should try to rest. It's a long flight."
"I'm fine."
"Rachel—"
"I said I'm fine." The words come out sharper than I intend. I soften my voice. "How long until we reach the airfield?"
"Five minutes. Private terminal on the east side. No security checkpoints, no passenger manifests. Clean departure."
Five minutes until we get on a plane to somewhere Colton won't name. To people I don't know. To a base of operations that might be just as compromised as every other place we've tried to hide.
But Lucas is breathing. Warm and alive and trusting me to keep him safe.
That has to be enough.
The convoy exits the highway, turning onto a narrow access road that leads away from the main terminal. Chain-link fencing runs along both sides, topped with barbed wire. Security gates slide open as we approach, then close behind us once the last SUV passes through.
Private hangars line the tarmac ahead. Small jets and helicopters sit ready, their paint jobs gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Money and power on display, the kind that doesn't fly commercial.
We pull up beside a sleek white jet. Larger than I expected, corporate rather than military. The kind of aircraft executives use to hop between meetings, not operators extracting witnesses.
Colton climbs out first, scanning the area before opening my door. Lucas stirs as I shift, blinking awake with confusion written across his face.
"Where are we?" His voice comes out groggy.
"The airport, baby. We're getting on a plane." I smooth his hair back. "Remember? Mr. Stryker's taking us somewhere safe."
"I don't want to go on a plane." Tears well in his eyes. "I want to go home."
My heart breaks. Again. "I know. But we can't right now."
Colton crouches beside the open door, putting himself at Lucas's eye level. "Have you ever been on a private jet before?"
Lucas shakes his head, wiping at his eyes.
"It's pretty cool. Lots of room to move around. Comfortable seats. And I bet we can find you something better than airplane peanuts to eat." Colton's voice gentles in a way I've never heard before. "What do you say we check it out?"
Lucas looks at me. I nod. "It'll be okay."
Mercer and the local contractors create a perimeter as we cross the tarmac. Professional. Efficient. Scanning for threats even here in a secured area because nowhere is truly safe anymore.
Stairs extend from the jet's door. Colton goes up first, then gestures for us to follow.
I climb up with Lucas's hand tight in mine, Ghost tucked under his other arm. When we step inside, I stop.
This isn't what I expected.
Cream leather seats arranged in clusters around polished wood tables. Soft lighting that feels warm instead of harsh. Carpet thick enough to muffle footsteps. A small galley at the rear with what looks like actual food, not packaged airline meals.
Luxury. Not military transport.
"Make yourselves comfortable." Colton secures his gear in an overhead compartment. "Flight time is about six hours. There's a bedroom in the back if Lucas wants to sleep."
A bedroom. On a plane.
I guide Lucas to one of the leather seats by a window. He climbs up, still clutching Ghost, and presses his face to the glass.
Colton drops into the seat across from us. Exhaustion shows in the lines around his eyes, the way he moves like everything hurts. "There's bottled water in the galley. Snacks. Whatever you need."
"This is yours?" I gesture at the interior. "Your team's?"
"Borrowed from a friend who owes Kane a favor. Figured it would be more comfortable than military transport." His jaw tightens. "Especially for Lucas."
The engines rumble to life. Vibration runs through the cabin as the pilot prepares for takeoff.
Lucas grips my hand. "Mom?"
"It's okay. That's just the engines starting." I buckle his seatbelt, then my own. "You're safe."
The jet begins to taxi, rolling smoothly across the tarmac toward the runway. Lucas watches out the window with wide eyes as Tucson spreads out below us—buildings and roads and the desert beyond.
The jet accelerates down the runway. Speed builds, pressing us back into the seats. Lucas gasps as the nose lifts and suddenly we're airborne, climbing fast and smooth into the darkening sky.
I watch Tucson fall away below us. The city spreading out in geometric patterns, roads like veins carrying life through the urban sprawl. The desert beyond, vast and empty and indifferent to everything happening on the ground.
We're leaving it all behind. The safe house. The panic room. The bodies Colton left behind. All of it shrinking in the distance as we climb higher.
Lucas's grip on my hand loosens as the ascent steadies. "It's not so scary," he says quietly.
"No, baby. It's not."
Colton leans back in his seat, closing his eyes.
There will be bruises tomorrow where bullets hit body armor.
Tomorrow he'll coordinate security at Echo Base and plan next steps and stand between Lucas and whatever comes next.
But right now, thirty thousand feet above Arizona and climbing, we're just three people on a plane heading somewhere the Committee might not find us.
Maybe.
I tighten my arm around Lucas and watch the world fall away below. The cabin is quiet except for the steady hum of engines. Warm light. Comfortable seats. Space to breathe.
It feels almost safe.
I don't trust it. Can't trust it. Not after everything.
But for the first time since Lucas witnessed that murder, the knot in my chest loosens just slightly.
Maybe we're heading toward safety. Maybe Echo Base will be different. Maybe Colton's team can keep my son alive long enough to stop the people hunting him.
Maybe.
I close my eyes and let myself believe it. Just for a moment. Just while we're suspended between earth and sky, flying toward whatever comes next.